Michael JECKS - The Leper's Return

“She has been a tower of strength to me,” murmured Ralph.

“Poor Edmund had no one who could love him like I could,” she asserted defensively. “Who else could help him in his last months or years? Not even his mother would come here to see him, but I dared, because how could God strike me down for helping the ill? And if He did, then I would go to my grave knowing I’d done all I could for another suffering creature, and I would go to join my Edmund in Heaven.”

Baldwin nodded understandingly. He had a pleasant face, she thought. A little like the statue of Jesus by the altar. The attentive concentration in his face was attractive, and she felt her heart warming to him. Instinctively she felt she could trust him.

“Last night, the same as each day before, I left here at twilight to go home. I still live with my parents, sir, and it is a lengthy walk, so I try to leave before nightfall. It was when I got to the crossroads near the inn I realized I’d left my coat here. I ran back, but it meant that when I left the second time it was already dark, and as I went through the streets, some men called to me, thinking I might be about some other business.”

Her face darkened as she recalled the two figures leering and making suggestive gestures as they praised her strong, young body. A female out and about in the dark, they had said, must be after one thing and one thing only. One of them had shaken his purse before her, trying to tempt her into an alley with him. It was only when a passer-by had shouted that she worked daily at the leper camp that they had pulled away, disdaining her with curses as if she had invited their lechery.

It was only a short walk after that to where she had found Quivil and Rodde. The two were cowering by a wall, arms up to protect their heads from the stones, clods of earth, broken sticks and rubbish that were being hurled at them by the small crowd of jeering, swearing townspeople.

She had stood a moment, aghast, then run forward, beating with her bare hands at the men nearest, thrusting them from her path and kicking at all who refused to move. In a few seconds she had broken through the press, and was between the men and their prey. “What are you doing? Don’t you know these men are defenseless?”

One of the men had given a scornful laugh. “You want to protect them? I didn’t think whores took that much interest in their punters!”

“Who calls me whore?” she had spat, thinking it was one man speaking through his ale, but others had taken up the call. Although the lepers were safe now, the crowd was eager to attack another target. Mary saw that Edmund was slumped at the wall, blood dribbling from a gash in his cheek and another on his scalp, and the other leper was crouched at his side cleaning the wounds as best he could. “How dare you call me that!”

“I dare.” It was Jack, the smith. He stood with his arms akimbo, meeting her gaze steadily. “You think we’re all so stupid we don’t realize what you’re doing in the lazar house every day – well, we do! You say you nurse the men there, but how many do you service a day, eh?”

She had felt the blood rise to her face, the hot blood of injustice. That she could be accused of consorting with any man was foul, but to suggest that she was capable of throwing her body at the poor diseased souls of St. Lawrence’s when all she was doing was looking after them because no one else would, stung her into retaliation. She said nothing, but remained where she was for a long period, then launched herself forward, fists bunched and ready to strike.

The smith laughed with contempt. As she came close, he grabbed her flailing hands and held her fast. “What do you think, lads? Is she worth taking?”

“Not now,” another responded, jerking his head at the two lepers. “She’s damaged!”

“Yeah!” Jack sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol as he surveyed her. “Go on, stay with your friends, wench.” And with that he shoved hard. She stumbled, weeping tears of rage, tripped on a stone and fell at Rodde’s feet. He shook his head in sympathy, but couldn’t take her hand in front of the crowd. It was forbidden for a leper to touch a healthy person. When she looked again, all the men were dispersing.

As she came to the end of her tale, Baldwin patted her hand. “What then?”

“I was going to walk back here with Edmund and Rodde, but Rodde said I ought to go straight home. He said it wasn’t good for me to come here any more, that I would be in danger, that the mob might attack me for lewd behavior, that they could burn me for heresy. He refused to let me help him, but sent me on my way.”

“That showed some good sense… and some stupidity,” Baldwin muttered. “What if you had been attacked again on the way home? He should have asked someone to escort you. Anyway, let us hope that this is an end to the violence. Mary, I am sorry. I will speak today to the smith and tell him plainly that if there’s any other disturbance, he will be in the jail before he can pick up a stone to throw. As it is, I’ll have him on a charge for slandering you and causing a riot. That should cost him several pretty pennies!”

“And what about poor Mary?” cried Ralph. “Go on, girl, tell the knight the rest. Tell him what happened when you arrived home!”

Mary’s gaze dropped to her hands once again, and she allowed her face to fall into them. She wasn’t weeping now, for she felt so exhausted with her crying that there was no energy left with which to fuel her grief. All she had was with her – there rolled up in her kerchief by the door. First she had lost her husband, but now she had lost everything else. It truly was too fabulous a disaster for her to fully comprehend.

“Sir, since last night, I have been trying to understand Jack and the others, and I had almost forgiven them, for any man might make a fool of himself after too much ale, but it is hard, so hard, after what they did…” Her eyes brimmed once more, and she had to sit quietly to bring herself under control. “Sir, my father wasn’t home when I arrived. He often visits the inn at night. I was sitting with my mother when he returned. He had been accosted in the street by this man Jack and others, and they had told him that I was no better than a slut. They said I wasn’t wanted in the town any more, and they would make me leave, and my family too.”

“They dared to do this?” Baldwin growled, glancing at the monk.

“They said they would burn my parents out of the house unless I left, with us all inside it; they said there was no place in Crediton for a woman who consorted with lepers.” She lifted her eyes to meet the knight’s. “So all I have is here. I have left my home so that my parents and brothers and sisters can live in peace. What else could I do?”

“Enough, Mary,” Baldwin said, and stood. His face was composed, but there was a tightness in his voice as he spoke. “This Jack will answer to me for what he has threatened. You need fear no more from him or from his friends. I will see to them – now!”

He swept from the room, pushing past Simon in his urgency, and it was not until he had reached the chapel’s main door that the hurrying monk managed to catch up with him. “Sir Baldwin? Please, wait one minute.”

“What, Brother Ralph?”

“Don’t go and persecute one man for his stupidity! Wait until you can consider his case more calmly. There’s no point in creating even more bad feeling in the town than already exists.”

“I think there is. If a young woman like Mary can be forced from her home with nowhere to go, there’s every need for these cretins to realize their fault!”

“I agree that she must be cared for, but don’t go rushing at them like a bull at a gate. For one thing, I have to ask myself whether it would be sensible for her to stay in the town after this.”